


duetto appassionato

by astudyinrose



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Piano Sex, Porn with Feelings, musician au, this was supposed to be a PWP but there's some plot okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinrose/pseuds/astudyinrose
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki, 23, has been the Detroit Symphony Orchestra’s ace pianist for the past two years. Victor Nikiforov, violinist extraordinaire and living legend of the orchestral world, is the guest soloist for the DSO’s winter series. He asks Yuuri to play a duet he composed, titled On Love: Eros.Basically, this is shameless smutty musician au one shot (it was supposed to be a PWP, but I couldn’t resist adding in some plot) based on theYuri!!! On Concert artthat just came out. Enjoy!





	duetto appassionato

**Author's Note:**

> I realize this is not something that any professional pianist could, should, or would ever do on or to a piano. Just indulge me.
> 
> I played piano for a few years and I was classically trained in opera singing, so I used my knowledge from that background to write the music-oriented parts of the fic. If there was something slightly inaccurate about the music world, please forgive me!
> 
> Thank you as usual to longhornletters for the beta!

 

For as long as he could remember, the black and white keys of a piano were Yuuri’s haven.

As a child, whenever he needed to withdraw from the hubbub of the onsen, he would retreat to a tiny room in the back of Yu-Topia. His parents had saved up to buy him an old battered stand-up piano, which they’d put in what had essentially been a supply closet. It was always out of tune, and the pedals often stuck...but it was _his,_ and his alone.

As soon as he settled onto the slightly off-kilter stool, his mind would turn blissfully blank, the outside world fading away like a whisper on the wind. When his fingers slid onto the yellowed keys in front of him, the chaos in his head settled into a muted hush.

And then, when he started to play, it was as if the music came from somewhere else, flowing through his fingers into reality, the melodies dancing around him like dust motes floating through sunlight. His favorite was [Chopin’s Nocturne](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E6b3swbnWg) in E-flat, and long into adulthood, whenever he played it, he was transported back in that tiny room, the afternoon light streaming in through the window and the smell of his mother’s cooking in his nose.

In his teens, he’d auditioned for conservatories, moved to the States, and eventually been hired by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. The increasing pressure of becoming a professional musician had brought new fears and anxieties, yet he always felt calm, in control, at peace, from the moment he sat down in a piano seat.

But not today.

Today, Yuuri was staring at his reflection in the glossy black wood of the Steinway and panicking.

He tried to breathe deeply, to calm himself down, because any moment now, the best violinist in the world—and Yuuri’s personal idol—was about to arrive at the practice suite for their rehearsal.

Victor Nikiforov was going to be at DSO for a month, including rehearsals and two weeks of performances. He had also personally requested that Yuuri accompany him in a new piece—a violin-piano duet he’d composed himself.

Yuuri was going to be onstage, playing a duet with a living legend. Just the two of them.

He was actively trying not to vomit.

“Stop panicking.”

Phichit appeared at his elbow, violin tucked under one arm.

“I’m _not_.” Yuuri scowled, crossing his arms.

“Right. It’s not like the man you’ve adored for ten years is about to walk in that door or anything.” Phichit raised an eyebrow at him.

“Shut up.”

“And it’s not like you’re wearing your best jeans—which you look slammin’ in, by the way—just because.”

Yuuri felt his cheeks heat; it was true, he had dressed up a bit for the occasion. He was wearing his dark skinny jeans and his black button-down...basically, his date outfit. He’d even styled his hair, which he normally only did for performances. He’d stopped at putting in his contacts, however. They always made his eyes dry, and it wouldn’t do for him to be rubbing them when he was trying to keep up with _Victor fucking Nikiforov_ of all people.

“Aha, I knew it.” Phichit looked triumphant.

“All right, all right. Chill out,” Yuuri hissed.

“Hey guys.” Leo de la Iglesia, a newly-minted cellist out of a conservatory in New York, appeared at their side, along with Guang Hong, a flautist.

“Wow, you look fancy, Yuuri. Why aren’t you wearing sweats like normal?” Guang Hong asked.

Phichit laughed, and Yuuri glared. “I don’t wear _sweats_ to rehearsal.”

“Yoga pants are the same thing as sweats,” Phichit pointed out.

“I just felt like it, okay?” Yuuri grumbled.

“So what do you think Victor’s really like?” Guang Hong bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, his eyes bright with excitement.

“Apparently he’s such a hot-shot that he can be twenty minutes late for his own guest rehearsal.” Leo fiddled with the strap of his backpack. “I hope he’s not _too_ big of a prima donna.”

Phichit huffed out a laugh. “Oh, he’s definitely a prima donna. Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

“He probably has a good reason for being late,” Yuuri said defensively.

Leo pushed his hair back from his face with a headband. “I have heard a lot of rumors, including the one that he sleeps with someone new in each city he performs in. Who do you think it’s going to be this time?”

Yuuri felt his face heat; Victor did have a bit of a reputation.

“Watch what you say, Leo. Yuuri’s had a crush on Victor for half his lifetime,” Phichit teased.

“Hey.” Yuuri punched Phichit’s shoulder lightly.

“Ow.” Phichit clutched the shoulder, though it couldn’t have actually hurt much.

At that moment, the outside door swung open, and everyone stopped chatting at once.

Victor Nikiforov swept into the room with the the bitter winter air, sleek overcoat and scarf streaming behind him, silver hair windswept. He had his violin case in one hand, a duffel bag over his shoulder, and a cup of coffee in the other hand.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. My flight was delayed.” He flashed a smile at the whole room, and half of the brass section swooned.

Victor dropped his bag on the ground and whipped off his coat. Though he must have just been on a twelve-hour flight, he was wearing a tailored black three-piece suit, cut to accentuate his slim figure. He took off his jacket and laid it on a chair, rolling up the sleeves of his button-down. Yuuri gulped, making himself look down at his music.

Celestino immediately walked up to him, hand extended. “Mr. Nikiforov. Thank you so much for coming. I’m Celestino Cialdini, DSO’s conductor.”

Victor’s smile brightened as he shook Celestino’s hand. “Of course. Thank you for having me.”

Celestino gave him a curt nod. “Do you need to warm up?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Victor said, unsnapping his violin case. He lifted the priceless Stradivarius out with slender fingers and rested it in the crook of his neck, picking up his bow.

“Give me an A, please?” He turned to the piano, meeting Yuuri’s gaze, and…

_Oh god._

Victor’s irises were somehow even more azure in person than they’d been in the posters above Yuuri’s bed at the conservatory dorm. This close, he could even see some silvered flecks of turquoise-green in them.

His eyes swept down Yuuri’s form, then back up. His plush lips, which were pinked from the cold, slid upward into a lopsided grin. Yuuri wondered what those lips would feel like against his own, if he could taste the bitter notes of the coffee Victor had been sipping…

Celestino cleared his throat loudly. “ _Yuuri_ ,” he prompted.

Someone in the strings section sniggered—Yuuri was almost certain it was Phichit.

“Sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head. He turned to the keyboard and played the note a little harder than was really necessary.

Victor pulled his bow across the strings, matching the pitch, the other members of the orchestra following suit. Yuuri loved this part; the brilliant cacophony of so many different musicians all tuning their instruments, playing scales. Yuuri played the A again, and again, until Victor nodded, turning back to face Celestino. Yuuri couldn’t help letting his gaze slip down Victor’s trim waist to his gorgeous ass, only a few tantalizing feet away.

It was simply not _fair._

Celestino tapped his stand with his baton. “Okay, okay, settle down people. Let’s start with the Bruch concerto.”

“First movement?” Victor asked, shuffling his music around.

Celestino nodded, and he raised his arms. The rest of the orchestra went silent, waiting for him to begin.

Victor rolled his shoulders, exhaling deeply, arms at his sides. Then he slipped the polished wood of his violin into the crook of his neck again.

Celestino cued the percussion, [the rolling beat of the drums](https://youtu.be/UxZbVwrGOrc?t=1m21s) like a rumble of thunder.

The flutes began their slow march, fading slowly into the background, and then Victor started to play.

The first notes floated against a nearly-silent backdrop, sinewy and strange and gorgeous as Victor himself.

When Celestino cued the rest of the strings to come in behind him, there was a bit of a scramble, as if they’d almost forgotten that they, too, were supposed to play.

Victor’s dramatic vibrato floated on top of the other instruments, reverberating through the space. He swayed at the waist like a dancer, his fingers moving so deftly that it looked effortless.

The solo was aggressive, yet graceful and precise, like a blizzard blowing through a city and leaving a glittering frost-world behind. It was so beautiful that Yuuri was blinking away tears as he played.

Ever since the first time Yuuri had seen Victor play, it had been one surprise after another.

Victor had been a prodigy, hired by the St. Petersburg Philharmonic—one of the premiere orchestras in the world—when he was only a teenager. He’d had his first solo performance at Carnegie Hall when he was only sixteen. Yuuri had been twelve at the time, watching the special broadcast on TV.

Victor still had long hair then, pulled back into a silvery ponytail that had glinted as he moved with the music. He’d played Bach’s Chaconne, one of the most grueling violin solos of all time, pure beauty singing from every note.

Yuuri had never seen or heard anything like it.

As he’d watched, he’d felt envy, and awe, and something else he couldn’t quite name. It would stay with him for years afterward, making his cheeks heat whenever he thought of Victor. Late at night, he would lie in bed, listening to the natural symphony outside his window—hooting owls, the wind chimes in the garden, the serene crash of the ocean waves, harsh caw of seagulls...thinking of those blue eyes over the glossy wood of the violin, like an iced-over pond.

Seeing him play in person now, though, was better than he could possibly have imagined. Yuuri just barely came in on his cues, stumbling slightly on a couple of notes. No one seemed to notice or even care, however; every single person in the room was under a spell, entranced by Victor.

They made it through the three Bruch movements twice over before rehearsal was over for the day.

“So what did you think?” Phichit asked, appearing at his elbow.

“He was fucking amazing,” Yuuri whispered. He glanced over at Victor, who was speaking in low tones with Celestino, his violin tucked under his arm.

“God, you actually have stars in your eyes,” Phichit chortled. “It’s _adorable_.”

“I…” Yuuri ducked his head.

“Why don’t you ask him out to dinner?” Phichit suggested.

Yuuri blinked at him, startled. “What? Why—why would I do that?”

Phichit rolled his eyes. “Did you not see the way he looked at you before practice? I think I actually saw Guang Hong blush.”

Yuuri’s mind was reeling. He’d basically convinced himself that Victor’s heated glance had only been his own wishful thinking.

“Uh,” Phichit’s gaze slid over Yuuri’s shoulder, eyes widening. “Incoming.”

“Hello,” a softly accented voice said.

Yuuri turned around quickly, nearly bumping into Victor, who was directly behind him. He was all poise and sleek designer suit and soft smile and _god how is he so incredibly hot_ —

“Uh—um—h—hi,” Yuuri stuttered.

“Victor Nikiforov,” Victor said, extending his free hand.

“Yeah, I know who you are.” Yuuri laughed nervously. “I’m, um. Yuuri Kastuki.”

“Yes.” Victor’s mouth twitched with amusement as he shook Yuuri’s hand. “So good to finally meet you.”

Victor held his hand a bit longer than was really necessary, his lips turning upward as he swept his thumb over Yuuri’s knuckles. Yuuri’s heart sped up, and suddenly it felt like all the spotlights in the concert hall were suddenly trained on him.

“Not that anyone here cares, but I’m Phichit,” Phichit chimed in.

Yuuri dropped Victor’s hand quickly, wiping his hand on his pants.

“Good to meet you,” Victor said, nodding at him, before his gaze immediately turned back to Yuuri. “Shall we rehearse our duet now, Mr. Katsuki?”

“Oh god, call me Yuuri. Um, sure. I mean, if you want. If you’re not too tired since you just got here all the way from Russia so I’m sure you’re tired and maybe you want to go check in to your hotel and get some rest and we can just start tomorrow?” Yuuri said quickly. Oh god, he was babbling. He was babbling, wasn’t he?

Victor laughed lightly. “No, I’m fine. I’d like to just sink my teeth into it now.” Victor bit his lower lip gently. “That is, unless you have plans.” He glanced at Phichit.

“Nope, no, he has no plans,” Phichit offered cheerily. “None at all, nada, zip, zilch.”

“Thanks, Phich,” Yuuri grumbled. _Make me sound like a loser, that’s fine._

Victor’s eyes lit up with excitement, and Yuuri could swear his heart flip-flopped in his chest. “Excellent. Shall we just practice here?”

“Sure.”

The rest of the players were filtering out at this point, most looking at Victor longingly as they left. Leo and Guang Hong were hovering by the door, waiting for Phichit.

Phichit clapped Yuuri on the shoulder. “See you at home, then,” he said. “Nice meeting you, Victor.”

He shouldered his violin bag, giving Yuuri one last salacious wink as he followed Leo out the door.

The metal door to the practice room swung shut, and suddenly, Yuuri was completely alone with Victor.

“So, um. ” Yuuri sat down on his bench again, shuffling his sheet music around, trying to find _On Love: Eros_. Yuuri knew the piece by heart—he’d practiced it to death ever since Victor had requested him for it—so he didn’t really need the music. It was more to have something to do with his hands. “Shall we just take it from the top, then?

Victor nodded, placing the violin at his neck.

Yuuri played the lead-in, and Victor began the [trilling Spanish-influenced violin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfv8qTZevrw), which Yuuri had thus far only imagined in his head as he rehearsed the piano accompaniment.

It was better than he could have possibly dreamed.

Seeing Victor play this close was a glorious thing to behold. His eyes were closed, his silvery eyelashes fanned out over his pale cheeks. His slim fingers caressed the strings like a lover, his entire body moving gracefully, the neck of the violin dipping and swaying with his movements.

After a few bars, Victor’s eyes opened, and he met Yuuri’s gaze. The heat he saw there made him gulp, turning back to look at the sheet music.

 _Victor is obviously just expressing the passion of the piece_ , he told himself. It was a song about sex, after all. It wasn’t possible that Victor was actually interested in _him_.

They played through the entirety of _Eros_. When they were finished, Yuuri lowered his hands, turning to look at Victor.

Victor smiled, his violin still on his shoulder. “You know it very well already, good. We can just focus on fine-tuning.”

He put his bow back to the strings. “Let’s start again, stepping up the time signature just a bit. If you think you can handle it, yes?”

Yuuri nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Good.” Victor grinned again, and Yuuri melted just a bit more.

They ran through the piece a few times. Victor stopped and made a few adjustments here and there, but mostly, it was like they had been playing together for years. Yuuri had never experienced anything like it before.

After about an hour, Victor lowered his violin. “That’s good for today, I think,” he said.

Yuuri nodded, closing his sheet book and putting it in his messenger bag. Victor carefully placed his Stradivarius back in its case, shutting the lid gently and fastening it.

Yuuri had already thrown on his coat, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, uh. See you tomorrow, then.” He turned to go, but Victor stepped forward, touching his arm.

“Would you join me for a coffee?”

“I don’t drink coffee this late at night, it keeps me up too late,” Yuuri said without thinking. The second he said the words, he clicked his mouth shut. _Fuck, did I just turn down Victor Nikiforov for a...well. It probably isn’t a date. But still. What the hell was I_ thinking _?_

Victor didn’t seem deterred, smiling easily as he shouldered his duffel bag. His hair fell into his eyes, and Yuuri had a sudden urge to reach up and brush it away. “Dinner, then? Surely you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Um, I. Yeah. Sure. I mean, _no_ , I haven’t.”

Victor’s smile was so dazzling that it made Yuuri’s head spin.

“Excellent. I haven’t been in Detroit recently, any recommendations?”

 

 

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on the same side of a booth in the back corner of a dimly-lit Chinese restaurant. It felt surreal, like something out of a dream.

Yuuri was barely able to refrain from pinching himself.

Victor chatted animatedly until the waitress came and took their orders, and they were alone again.

“So how long have you been playing?” Victor asked, resting his chin on his fist, his body turned almost completely toward Yuuri.

Yuuri shifted slightly in his seat, suddenly keenly aware of how close Victor was—so close that he could count each of his eyelashes.

“I, uh. What, piano?”

Great, he sounded like a complete and total idiot. Why did Victor have to be so fucking _distracting_?

Victor’s lips slid upward into a grin. “Yes, piano,” he said, sounding amused.

“I play other instruments too, that’s why I asked,” Yuuri said quickly, the back of his neck prickling with embarrassment.

“Oh, I see. What else do you play?”

“I, uh. I tried my hand at violin, at one point.” Yuuri took a big gulp of his water. _Because I wanted to be like you,_ he didn’t say.

Victor perked up at that. “Really?” The ‘r’ of the word rolled thickly on his tongue.

Yuuri felt the flush spreading down to his neck. “Yeah, I’m just okay at it, though. Cello was my minor at the conservatory, and I dabbled in oboe. But I’m best at the piano.”

“One could say, it’s your _forte_?” Victor’s mouth twitched, but he was obviously trying to keep a straight face.

Yuuri stared at him, then he burst out laughing, until Victor broke down and giggled.

“That was _terrible_ ,” Yuuri said, still laughing.

“What can I say, terrible jokes are _my_ forte.” Victor moved a little closer. “So you have always wanted to be a musician?”

“I, uh. I guess so, yes.” His mind flashed briefly to seeing Victor on TV when he was twelve, his stomach swooping at the memory. “It was all I dreamed about as a kid. But enough about me, I’m not that interesting.”

Victor’s azure eyes danced. They were mesmerizing, like pools of liquid light; Yuuri could drown in them. He would, if he wasn’t careful.

Yuuri was about to sit back a bit, to put some space between them...when Victor slid two fingers under Yuuri’s chin, his other hand resting lightly on Yuuri’s wrist. Yuuri felt his heart starting to pound against his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins.

“I want to know everything about you, Yuuri,” he said, voice pitched low. “A relationship like this should be built on trust, don’t you think?”

Yuuri blinked at him, his glasses starting to fog up. _Is it hot in here?_

“We’re only doing one song together,” he mumbled.

Victor pursed his lips. “I find that I’m much better at playing with someone I know well. So tell me more about yourself...where you practice, and what hobbies you have. If there’s a girl you like.”

“Hah,” Yuuri huffed out.

Victor’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“I’m more into...men,” Yuuri explained awkwardly.

“How convenient,” Victor’s lips curled upward. “Me too.” He winked, releasing Yuuri’s chin.

Yuuri gaped at him. Was Victor Nikiforov... _flirting_ with him?

“Um. Yeah, I know,” Yuuri said weakly. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Victor was gay. He’d been featured in _OUT_ Magazine a few times, having been very open about his sexuality since his late teens.

Victor laughed, the sound like trilling bells on a fresh spring morning. “What else do you know about me?”

“Uh…” _Everything._ He decided to go for something simple, something that most fans would know. “I know that before you play, you stand completely still, close your eyes, take a deep breath, then roll your shoulders. Like you’re preparing yourself for battle.”

Victor’s eyes widened slightly, and he tilted his head. Yuuri felt like he was being x-rayed.

“You do something similar, once you sit down at the piano,” Victor said, after a moment.

“I—what?”

“Before you play, you put your hands on the keys, and stare down at your fingers for about five seconds. It’s like you’re meditating, or going somewhere else. Then you nod, and start to play. I’ve always wondered what you were thinking about in that moment.”

Yuuri licked his lips, and Victor’s eyes flicked down to look at his mouth.

“You’ve...you’ve watched me play?” Yuuri asked.

Victor laughed. “Of course I have. Why do you think I requested you for _Eros_?”

Yuuri curled his shoulders inward, trying to make himself smaller. “I...uh. I have no idea, to be honest. I’m nothing special.”

Victor shook his head. “On the contrary. You’re entirely unique.”

Yuuri just blinked at him, stunned. “Me?”

Victor picked up Yuuri’s hand, turning it over and tracing a circle in the palm with his forefinger. The touch made Yuuri break out in goosebumps.

“I was drawn to you because of the way your entire body responds to the music. It’s like the song is already inside you, and you’re using your body to release it. Most musicians, including me, aspire to that level of playing. But you…” Victor shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. You have a rare gift, Yuuri.”

Yuuri opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure what to say. _Are you sure you’re talking about me?_

“I’ve lacked inspiration lately,” Victor went on, voice low, as if it were a secret. “But I’m searching for something to bring it back. Something like what I see in you.” Victor’s eyes were hooded, his gaze dark, his lips so shiny and pink…and he was so _close_...

_Fuck._

But then, the waiter arrived with their food, glancing back and forth between them as she listed off the various dishes she was setting down. Victor sat back reluctantly, releasing Yuuri’s hand.

Then she was gone again, but the moment was broken. Yuuri busied himself with loading his plate; Victor picked up his chopsticks and immediately stuffed his mouth full of sesame chicken, which was comical and endearing at the same time.

“So where are you from originally?” Victor asked, voice slightly muffled.

“Hasetsu, in Japan.” Yuuri took some lo mein and placed it on his plate.

“Wow, you’re a long way from home.”

“So are you,” Yuuri pointed out.

Victor cocked his head, considering this. “I suppose. I have spent so much time traveling to perform that it’s just...normal, at this point.”

They talked about everything and nothing—food, their families, the strangest places they’d traveled to perform. Yuuri talked about the conservatory and growing up at the onsen. Victor talked about his dog, Makkachin. He even showed Yuuri pictures—though, of course, Yuuri had already seen many pictures of him over the years. Victor was surprisingly easy to talk to, and Yuuri was keenly aware of every casual touch, every lingering glance.

He hoped it wasn’t all in his imagination.

They stayed long after the restaurant was technically closed, until the waiter, who was hovering nearby, cleared her throat.

Yuuri sighed, glancing down at his watch. “It’s almost midnight, we’d better get going,” he said reluctantly.

Victor sighed, nodding. “Let’s go, then.”

Yuuri put on his beanie and coat, and Victor led him to the door, holding it open for him.

“Can we pick _Eros_ up again tomorrow? Say, two, since main rehearsal is at three?”

“I, um. Yeah, I think that should be fine.” Yuuri tugged his hat down a little more tightly over his ears, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“See you tomorrow, then.” Victor took Yuuri’s hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing his knuckles.

“Tomorrow,” Yuuri said breathlessly.

Victor smiled at him, his hair falling into his eyes, as he released Yuuri’s hand. He turned and walked off into the night, casually glancing over his shoulder after ten steps. Yuuri waved frantically, like some lovestruck teenager, and Victor laughed, waving back, before he disappeared around the corner.

 

 

* * *

When Yuuri got home, he leaned against the door, fingers pressed to his chest over his heart, sighing.

Phichit was lounging on the couch, the familiar music of _The King and the Violinist_ filtering from the TV. He dropped his head on the back of the couch, looking at Yuuri upside down. “Where were you?”

“Eating dinner.”

“Ooooh,” Phichit cooed good-naturedly. “Is that a euphemism?”

“Don’t.” Yuuri pushed himself off the door, feeling like he was floating as he walked toward his room.

“Did you at least kiss him?” Phichit called after him.

“Goodnight, Phich,” Yuuri called back, closing the door with a loud click.

He flopped down in bed, fully clothed, pressing his hands to his face.

He lay there for a few long minutes, heart still beating faster than normal. Eventually, he realized: the reason his heart felt light, why he was so excited about tomorrow...was because he was _happy_.

 

 

* * *

The next day, Yuuri arrived a full fifteen minutes early, hoping to beat Victor to the practice room.

When he arrived, however, he was about to open the door when he realized...he could hear a solo violin playing [Nocturne in E-Flat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjLLqm_jj38).

Yuuri paused for a moment, hand on the handle, listening. Then he opened the door slowly, careful not to make too much noise.

Most of the lights were off except the one above the piano, creating a strange chiaroscuro in the room. Victor had his back to the entrance, his slender body silhouetted against the dark backdrop, his hair like liquid moonlight. He was wearing a deep blue shirt that set off the paleness of his skin, his dark trousers cut perfectly to show off his slim hips and round curves of his ass.

Yuuri stood near the back, just listening, letting the notes wash over him. The lonely, ethereal melody was achingly familiar yet somehow new under Victor’s touch. With just the two of them in the room, it felt like Victor was playing a concert for him alone. Like Victor himself, it was otherworldly, every note calling to Yuuri, inviting him. As if the violin were one half of a harmony, waiting for a partner.

Yuuri wanted to answer that call, to join Victor and start playing the song he knew by heart.

The music ended, the final notes reverberating around the closed room. Yuuri blinked, realizing he was tearing up a little; he wiped his eyes quickly.

Victor turned, his lips sliding slowly upward into a smile when he saw Yuuri.

“Hello, Yuuri,” he said, his accent thick, curling Yuuri’s name into a purr.

“Hey,” Yuuri grinned back, unwinding his scarf as he walked over to the piano. “That was…” he gulped, struggling to find words to describe how hearing _Victor_ play _that piece_ made him feel. “It was beautiful. I don’t know why you think you lack inspiration.”

Victor smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you. Do you need to warm up?”

“I warmed up at home, I’m ready,” Yuuri said, setting his music down and taking off his coat.

“Let’s work on the climax first,” Victor said, tightening his bow before setting his violin back on his shoulder. “Bar one hundred. I want to see the passion in it, this time.”

Yuuri nodded. He sat down and stared at the keys, just breathing for a moment, before he started to play.

Yuuri tried to focus on the music, making sure he was hitting the notes as precisely as possible since they’d picked up the tempo.

Halfway through the segment, Victor abruptly stopped playing, and after a few notes Yuuri stopped as well. He turned to look at Victor, who had tucked his violin under his arm, his index finger pressed to his pursed lips.

“What?” Yuuri hunched his shoulders, suddenly self-conscious.

Victor was silent for a moment. “What is this piece about, Yuuri?”

“Uh. Eros?”

Victor nodded. “Eros, yes. Sexual love. Pleasure layered upon pleasure until you’re drowning in ecstasy.”

Yuuri felt his face heat. “Right.”

“I have always believed that musical perfection comes from two things: technical expertise, and expression of emotion.”

He turned to lean against the piano, his gaze fixed on Yuuri.

“You have the skills for this piece, and I know you’re capable of the depth of feeling required to make it something truly special. Why are you still holding back?”

“Um…” Yuuri averted his gaze. He’d been thinking about Victor, and _only_ Victor, since he’d first swept into the room the day before. If anything, he was trying to hold himself back from jumping the man right then and there. It would be unprofessional and inappropriate. 

Even if they were rehearsing alone. In a dark studio. And Victor kept touching him everywhere.

As if on cue, Victor walked over and sat down on the bench next to him.

“Is Phichit your lover?” Victor asked bluntly.

“Wh— _what_?” Yuuri stuttered, completely thrown off by the abrupt change in topic.

“Is he your—”

“ _No_ , no, no, he’s just my friend, my roommate,” Yuuri said hastily.

Victor’s smile made Yuuri’s heart skip a beat. “Ah, I see. So do you have a different lover then?” Victor pressed on.

“Er. No. Can we just—”

“What about ex-lovers?”

Yuuri flushed. He wasn’t completely lacking in that department, but there hadn’t been anyone recently.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” he said awkwardly.

“Then let’s talk about me. My first lover was—”

“Can we just get back to rehearsing?” Yuuri interrupted, voice strained.

Victor made a frustrated noise. “You need to unleash the Eros within yourself, Yuuri. I know it’s there. Smoldering deep down inside you, waiting for its chance to come out.”

He reached out slowly, cupping Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri leaned into it on instinct.

Victor watched him searchingly, then moved closer, until their eyes were only inches apart, his gaze piercing. “Why don’t you play more like you’re trying to seduce me?” he asked softly.

Yuuri’s breath caught. “I…”

“If your performance can enthrall me, then you can bring the whole audience to their knees,” Victor went on, voice a low rumble. “And who knows, you might even be able to bring _me_ to my knees, too.” He smirked, the innuendo obvious.

Yuuri gaped at him. There was no more mistaking it now: Victor Nikiforov, casanova of the orchestral world, was _definitely_ hitting on him.

“Can you show me your Eros soon, Yuuri?” Victor asked, his eyes darting downward as he thumbed Yuuri’s lip.

A few bars of silence stretched out between them, but Victor didn’t move back.

Yuuri was at the breaking point, ready to throw caution to the wind and press their lips together, just to see what would happen, when—the door banged open with a loud clang.

Yuuri jerked backward, stunned.

Guang Hong froze just inside the door, looking back and forth between them several times. “Um, hi,” he squeaked.

Victor frowned at him, arm still outstretched. “Hi.”

Guang Hong’s face turned a deep beet red. “I’ll just—erm. Sorry.” He turned and high-tailed it out of the room.

Victor stood, shouldering his violin again. “From the top?”

Yuuri sighed, nodding, the moment gone once ore. He was starting to wonder when he was going to run out of chances.

 

 

 

* * *

After rehearsal, Victor and Yuuri lingered near the door outside. Phichit waited for Yuuri a little way down the road, pretending to be interested in his phone but sneaking glances at them every few seconds.

Victor’s breath unfurled in the cold night air. “I wish we could get dinner again, but I promised an old friend I’d go out with him tonight.” He sighed, lower lip jutting out slightly in a pout.

“I really need to work on my solo anyway,” Yuuri said regretfully. He usually rehearsed on his own for a few hours before bed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, though? Maybe we can go out to eat after we rehearse?”

“Okay.” Yuuri nodded.

“Goodnight, Yuuri.” He took Yuuri’s hand, brushing his lips over the knuckles, as he had the night before.

Yuuri felt his cheeks heat. “Good night.”

Phichit looked like he was having an aneurysm when Yuuri walked toward him, dazed.

“God, Yuuri, I can’t _even_ ,” Phichit said, linking their arms as they started walking the short distance home.

“I know, how is he even real?”

“Have you still not kissed him yet?”

Yuuri shook his head. “We got pretty close this afternoon, but then Guang Hong walked in.”

Phichit clucked disapprovingly. “I need to talk to that boy about his timing.”

“Seriously.”

Phichit paused, glancing upward, his breath billowing in clouds up toward the night sky. “So what’s he like?”

Yuuri sighed, thinking about Victor’s eyes fixed on Yuuri over his violin; his slender fingers moving nimbly on the strings with ease; what it would feel like for those same fingers, those plush lips, to press against Yuuri’s skin...

“He’s…” Yuuri trailed off. He didn’t have words for how Victor made him feel.

“Wow, you really have it bad.”

There was no point in denying it. “Yeah, I think I do,” he admitted.

Phichit looked down at their feet as they walked, going uncharacteristically quiet.

“What is it?” Yuuri prompted, after a moment.

“Just...be careful. I don’t want you to be...what’s the word, bereft, when he leaves eventually.”

Yuuri sighed, walking up the steps to their apartment. “Too late for that, I think. No matter what happens between now and then.”

Phichit made a disgruntled noise in his throat as he fished his keys out to open the door for them, but he dropped it.

“Want something to eat?” he asked, closing the door behind them.

“Nah, I’m going to go work on Eros.” Yuuri put his messenger bag down on the chair near the door and took out his music.

Phichit leered at him. “I bet you are.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Not like _that_.”

“I’m going to heat up some of the leftover pizza, and I’m going to bring you some,” Phichit called after him. “You’re getting too skinny again.”

“Fine,” Yuuri called back, unwinding his scarf as he walked down the hall.

After graduating from the conservatory, they’d moved into what was technically a three bedroom apartment, but they’d converted the third bedroom into a practice studio. They’d even put noise-absorbing material on the walls so their neighbors wouldn’t complain as much. Yuuri sat down at his standup, setting up the music, and then stared at the keys.

He thought of Victor’s darkened eyes, focused on Yuuri; his thumb against Yuuri’s lips.

_Eros. Pleasure layered upon pleasure until you’re drowning in ecstasy._

It wasn’t just about the piece, not anymore. Victor wasn’t going to take that final step in the seduction dance. He wanted Yuuri to seduce him with his playing...and Yuuri was ready to do it.

He put his hands in position and started to play.

 

 

 

* * *

Victor was waiting for him outside the rehearsal suite the next evening when Yuuri arrived five minutes early.

“Good evening,” Victor said, eyes lighting up.

“Hi.” Yuuri grinned, heart picking up immediately at the sight of Victor’s smile.

He unlocked the room, locking the deadbolt from the inside this time. There was no full rehearsal today—it was their day off—but he didn’t want to take any chances.

Victor put his violin case down on a chair and took off his coat. He was wearing a dove grey trouser-vest combination, white button down and black silk tie. The vest was so fitted that Yuuri wondered how he could even breathe.

Yuuri took off his own coat, placing it to the side. Phichit had insisted that they go out and get him a new outfit for his “date,” so he was wearing a new black and grey plaid suit over a white button down, open at the collar. He felt too hot, though, so he took off the jacket and laid it on a nearby chair, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. His hair was slicked back and he was wearing his contacts, just this once. Phichit had insisted on putting on a touch of eyeliner, too, which he had to admit made his eyes look even bigger than usual. He was far more dressed up than he would normally be for a rehearsal, but they _were_ going out to dinner afterward.

Victor’s eyes flitted down his form appreciatively, and Yuuri smirked a little.

“Should we—“ Victor began.

Before he could finish his sentence, Yuuri took him by the shoulders and steered him over to a chair next to the piano. “I’m going to play the entire piece for you,” he said. “I want you to just listen.”

Victor cocked his head. “Okay.” He sat down, crossing his legs.

Yuuri sat down at the piano, looking down at his fingers on the keys, taking a deep breath in and out.

Victor had asked him about this pause he took before playing...and the truth was, he usually thought about Victor himself at sixteen years old, alone on the stage, enthralling the world with his music. That Victor was the reason he’d had the drive to become a musician in the first place.

But now, he would think of Victor as he was today—a grown man, glittering silver and gold, exuding ethereal beauty and...loneliness.

He glanced up at Victor, whose eyes were dancing with anticipation.

 _The performance has already begun, Victor,_ he thought. _By the end of it, you’re going to be begging for me to touch you._

He licked his bottom lip, and Victor’s eyes widened.

Yuuri lowered his gaze to the piano again, and [began to play.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uq-3PVCY9sQ)

As his fingers flitted over the keys, he imagined a man twirling in a dance, his arms outstretched, asking for a partner. He played the partner arriving at last; the twirl of a tango, the press of bodies, the brush of a hand against a waist. He played two coming together as one.

 _I know many men have shared your bed,_ he thought, _but no one else can satisfy you like I can. No one else can make you feel this way, I’m the only one._

He played the caress of lips against skin. He played the whisper of fingertips on a shoulder, an aborted groan against the silent backdrop of the night.

 _You know it’s true,_ he thought, his fingers dancing over the keys. _I’ll surpass your wildest imagination, if you let me._

He licked his lips, thinking about sliding them down Victor’s cock. He played Victor arching under him, his entire body laid out beneath Yuuri until he was drowning in white-hot pleasure.

When he was done, the silence was almost oppressive in the room, his heart pounding in his chest.

He looked up at Victor, and, _oh_ —

Victor was panting, cheeks and neck flushed, lips parted slightly, standing directly to his left. Yuuri hadn’t even noticed him stand up and walk over.

“ _Yuuri_ —”

And at the sound of his own name being curled in that tongue, something inside Yuuri snapped.

He stood up, sliding his hand around Victor’s neck and pulling him downward to crush their mouths together.

Victor made a muffled noise of surprise, and for one panicked moment, Yuuri thought he’d read this all wrong, but then—gloriously, _wondrously_ —Victor started kissing him back.

It had been three days of foreplay, and Yuuri couldn’t hold himself back a second longer. Heimmediately pressed his tongue between Victor’s lips, into his sinfully hot mouth, teasing Victor’s tongue with his own.

Victor moaned, opening himself to Yuuri. There was no prelude, no overture; he slid his hands around Victor’s trim waist and pulled their bodies together, _hard._ His hips pressed against Victor’s as they kept kissing hungrily, sloppy in their desperation to be closer. He could feel Victor’s cock hardening by the second, which made his own arousal hit him with brute force.

He growled, kissing the pale column of Victor’s throat, his hands sliding down to grasp at the plush ass he’d had fantasies about for years.

“You’re incredible,” Victor breathed, tilting his head to the side to allow Yuuri better access.

Yuuri laughed into Victor’s skin. “Look who’s talking.” He sucked hard on Victor’s pulse point, his fingers digging into the flesh of Victor’s ass, and Victor gasped, hands pressing into the skin of Yuuri’s waist through his starched shirt. 

Yuuri sucked hard enough to leave a mark. “Ahh,” Victor groaned. He reached down between them to palm Yuuri’s cock.

Yuuri stopped his ministrations for a moment, gasping. “Do you…”

Victor’s eyes were lidded, his lips reddened from their kisses. “I want you,” he whispered. “I…I _want_.”

Victor pressed his lips to Yuuri’s again, filthy and hot, his fingers teasing the outline of Yuuri’s cock, his musician’s callouses rough even through the fabric.

And just like that, it was no longer just a kiss.

Yuuri groaned, one hand fisting in Victor hair, tilting his head so that he could fuck his tongue into Victor’s mouth with intent.

Suddenly, Yuuri needed to taste more skin, feel more of him; he released Victor’s ass reluctantly to start unbuttoning Victor’s vest, then his shirt, kissing down his pale sternum as he went. His fingers brushed against Victor’s washboard abs as he tongued one nipple to hardness. Victor threw his head back in a moan, holding onto Yuuri’s neck to keep himself upright. 

Yuuri chuckled, pinching the nipple as he licked the other one.

“Yuuri,” Victor breathed. “Yuuri, I need…”

He pulled Yuuri’s head up to kiss him again, pushing him backward until his legs hit the piano bench. Yuuri sat down on instinct, the force of it breaking their kiss. Grinning wickedly, Victor slid to his knees, his fingers brushing up Yuuri’s inner thighs.

“I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to get the hint,” he said, eyes dark.

He leaned in, nose nuzzling against Yuuri’s clothed cock.

Yuuri moaned, his elbows pressing onto some of the keys behind him, the atonal notes loud in the silence of the practice room.

“I thought...you were just...flirting. Teasing,” he gasped.

Victor looked at him mischievously, unzipping Yuuri’s fly. “I _was_ flirting. I was starting to think I might have to lay down lengthwise on your damned piano, my head hanging directly over the keyboard, in order to get you to notice me.”

Yuuri huffed out a laugh. “I noticed you...far longer ago...than I’d like to admit.”

Victor grinned, licking a stripe up Yuuri’s cock over his underwear. Yuuri gasped, sliding one hand into Victor’s soft silver hair, widening his thighs on the piano bench. A few thoughts flickered through his head—he was really glad that he’d locked the door from the inside, and also that he’d worn his only fancy underwear, a pair of black designer boxer-briefs.

Victor licked another stripe up Yuuri’s cock through his briefs.

“Fuck,” Yuuri moaned, hand tightening in his hair.

“Is that a promise?” Victor grinned, pulling the head of Yuuri’s cock over his waistband and licking at the frenulum.

“Oh _god_ …” Yuuri panted, pleasure trickling down his spine.

Victor started lapping at Yuuri’s cock over his waistband, blissful expression on his face, as if it were the most delicious thing in the world. Yuuri was pretty sure he’d died and this was heaven because it was better than his wildest fantasies.

Apparently deciding to stop torturing him, Victor freed his cock all the way from his underwear, pushing Yuuri’s pants down his hips. Without preamble, he took Yuuri fully into his mouth, and Yuuri’s vision went white. 

“Fuck, your mouth, _Victor_ —”

Victor reached down to palm himself as his mouth slid up and down Yuuri’s cock, the vibrato of his groans making Yuuri’s skin fissure in pleasure.

Victor sunk down all the way, swallowing around Yuuri’s cock once, twice. Yuuri cried out, his blunt fingernails raking over Victor’s scalp, wondering fleetingly how much practice Victor must have had in order to master his gag reflex.

 _Don’t think about that_ , he told himself. _He’s here with_ you _now._

Then Victor pulled off, his eyes watering, panting. “Don’t take your eyes off me,” and then he swallowed Yuuri’s cock again.

“God, Victor, you’re so fucking good, so gorgeous,” Yuuri babbled, making small aborted motions with his hips as Victor swallowed around him again, and again. He kept his gaze on Victor, whose pupils were so large that there was almost no blue left.

He kept torturing Yuuri, swallowing him down and then pulling off, not quite letting him come.

Yuuri swore in Japanese the third time he did this, and Victor smirked, lips slick as he leaned back, fisting him with his free hand. “Would you fuck me?” he asked hoarsely, eyes as dark as the water of the Great Lakes in winter.

Yuuri felt the air whoosh out of his lungs. “Fuck, yes, yes, I—should we go back to my apartment?”

Victor shook his head. “No, I want you now. Here.”

“ _Here_? But I don’t have…”

“I do,” Victor turned to his coat, taking out condoms and lube and dropping them on the ground.

Yuuri gaped at him, even more lightheaded than before. “You brought—“

“I was hoping that this would be the result of the evening,” Victor said cheekily, before sliding his mouth down onto Yuuri’s cock again, bobbing up and down as he twisted the base with one hand.

 _“Fuck_ , Victor, stop or I’m going to—I’m not going to be able to—” he let his head fall back for a couple more minutes, moaning loudly as Victor brought him near orgasm yet again.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Yuuri grabbed Victor by the shoulders, pulling him up to his feet, swaying slightly because all the blood had rushed out of his head. He crushed their mouths together again, tasting his own bitterness on Victor’s tongue as he pushed his shirt off his shoulders, then unzipped Victor’s pants.

Victor pushed the trousers off and kicked them away, now completely naked front of him. Yuuri slid his hands around Victor’s slim waist with wonder and kissed him again, wanting his hands to be everywhere, all at once; he wanted to kiss and stroke and touch and...

Victor kissed him once more, then turned and leaned over the piano lid, resting on his elbows, looking over his shoulder with a heated gaze.

“Take me like this,” he said.

A few thoughts flicked through Yuuri’s brain, one after another— _but this is a Steinway,_ and _no one should have sex on a piano outside of a porno,_ and _Celestino will kill me_ —but they all quickly flew out the window at the sight of Victor presenting his glorious ass to be fucked. Yuuri wasted no time, taking off his own shirt and throwing it aside, pressing his own body down onto Victor’s, his cock sliding into the cleft between Victor’s cheeks.

“Yuurrrrr—iii,” Victor purred, the ‘r’ of his name elongated as he rolled his hips backward, his perfect ass grinding just where Yuuri wanted it.

Yuuri leaned down to kiss Victor’s shoulder blade, rolling into him, his cock sliding between Victor’s thighs. They both groaned, and Yuuri got distracted for a moment, thrusting between those muscular thighs, gripping Victor’s hips. As he pushed forward, he imagined what it would be like to press into Victor, to fuck him into oblivion, make him scream Yuuri’s name.

“I thought… you were...going to fuck me…” Victor moaned, as if reading his thoughts.

Yuuri laughed breathlessly, kissing the small of Victor’s back. “Bossy,” he murmured into Victor’s skin.

Though he was loathe to let go of Victor even for a moment, Yuuri stepped back, grabbing the lube and condoms from where they’d been tossed on the floor.

Yuuri turned back to him, and he froze for a moment, struck by the vision of Victor like this: panting, hair in his eyes, nose flushed, ass in the air, his entire sinewy body ready for the taking. Ready for _Yuuri_.

He licked his lips as he poured some lube on his fingers, smoothing one hand down Victor’s pearly back as he began to massage the rim of Victor’s hole with the other.

Yuuri leaned down to mouth at Victor’s shoulders, needing to taste the salt and sweat on his skin. “You’re so gorgeous, fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you.”

One finger slipped in easily, and Yuuri gasped, surprised. “You’re—“

“As I said before,” Victor panted, looking over his shoulder, “I was hoping this would be the result of the evening.”

“Fuck, you—seriously?” Yuuri shuddered, imagining Victor opening himself up that afternoon, fucking his fingers inside of himself over and over _—_

Yuuri pushed his finger in farther, moving it in and out, and Victor hissed, his eyes slipping closed.

“Were you imagining me doing this when you touched yourself?” Yuuri slipped a second finger in with the first, meeting little resistance.

Victor moaned, arching his back as he pushed backward into Yuuri’s touch. “Yessss,” he hissed. “And I thought about your…your cock inside me, when…I fucked myself with my dildo. I came so hard, I—”

“Oh _god_ ,” Yuuri pressed his forehead to Victor’s back, feeling like he was going to come right then and there. 

He pressed a third finger in, working them in and out a few times, but Victor was more than ready.

“Please, Yuuri, just—fuck me,” Victor babbled. “ _Please._ ”

“Okay, okay, yes.” Yuuri picked up a condom, ripping it open and rolling it in with shaking fingers, then used more lube to slick up the outside.

He lined himself up, teasing Victor’s rim a little with the head, pausing to take a breath because Victor was looking at him over his shoulder with so much heat that he could barely _breathe._

Then, finally, Yuuri pushed forward, slipping past the rim of muscle, and they both moaned loudly, the sound harsh against the silence of the studio.

He rocked inward, pushing in a little further each time, the delicious heat better than any four-part major harmony. Their bodies were slick with sweat, but he gripped Victor’s hips, moving slowly until he was all the way in.

Yuuri paused, panting, Victor’s thighs quivering against his own. He let his eyes flutter closed, listening to their mingled breaths, the creak of the piano underneath them; the feeling of Victor’s body around him, tight and hot and more exquisite than he could have dreamed.

“Move. _Please,_ ” Victor croaked.

Yuuri pulled back, still holding Victor’s hips, and thrust forward in one long, steady stroke. He pulled out slowly again and pushed forward. Victor groaned, his fingers pressed hard to the black lid.

After a few thrusts, Yuuri started to pick up the pace, keeping long, powerful strokes, wanting to drive Victor mad, as he’d driven Yuuri mad for the past two days. Victor arched his back, pushing backwards into the thrusts, keening loudly with every movement.

“Harder,” Victor gasped after a couple of minutes.

Biting his lip, Yuuri snapped his hips hard, and Victor cried out, his hands slipping out from under him so that his forehead was pressed against the glossy wood of the piano.

At the next thrust, Victor groaned even louder, and Yuuri knew he’d found his prostate. He held Victor in position, pistoning hard into that spot, again, and again, Victor crying out brokenly.

“Yuuri, fuck, yes, god, _fuck me_ —“

Yuuri smoothed his hand down Victor’s back, keeping up a brutal pace, hips beating a staccato rhythm against Victor’s ass. It was loud and lewd and Yuuri had to screw his eyes shut, because just the image of Victor bent over the piano, of his own cock sliding in and out of Victor’s body, was enough to make him come too early. He couldn’t, though, not yet. Not until he’d made Victor come so hard that he’d always remember him.

Maybe this was just sex for Victor, and he’d leave in only a couple of weeks...but while he had him, Yuuri was going to enjoy every single second of it, drive Victor so far into pleasure that he screamed Yuuri’s name as he came.

So he gritted his teeth, thrusting harder, right where Victor needed it.

Victor reached back and intertwined their fingers on his hip, making little keening noises with every thrust.

When Victor started to tighten up, getting close, Yuuri slowed down into long and slow strokes again.

“You’re torturing me,” Victor groaned.

Yuuri leaned down to whisper into Victor’s ear. “Good.”

Victor’s eyes fluttered closed, and Yuuri snapped his hips in hard once again, then slowed the pace. He kept this up for a few more minutes, alternating hard thrusts with long, slower ones. Victor was moaning loudly, still pressing backward into each thrust.

It was almost perfect—almost. He wanted to kiss Victor, badly, and he couldn’t do it in this position.

He pulled out, turning Victor over—wincing inwardly again about what he was doing to a very expensive piano, but not enough to stop. He was strong enough to half-hold Victor up, his upper body still on the lid.

“Look at me,” Yuuri said, lining himself back up at Victor’s hole but not pushing in yet.

Victor’s eyes opened, and he looked at Yuuri with an intensity that nearly brought Yuuri to his knees.

Victor reached down to help Yuuri guide his cock back inside, his back arching as Yuuri pressed in, his mouth falling open.

Yuuri leaned down to kiss him, fucking into him at the same time, swallowing Victor’s moans as he rotated his hips into his body.

Yuuri picked up the pace again, and Victor whined, wrapping his long legs around Yuuri’s waist. Sweat dripped off of Yuuri’s forehead onto the shiny surface of the piano, as he kept fucking into him, claiming his body with every thrust, and letting Victor claim him in return, his fingernails raking down Yuuri’s back in a way that would surely leave marks.

Yuuri’s arms were shaking, however, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to hold Victor up much longer. So he drove into him, into the spot where he knew he needed it, hard and fast.

Victor cried out, arching into him, kissing him desperately and sloppily, reaching down to stroke himself.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m, I’m going...to come,” Victor panted.

Yuuri leaned down, his body almost completely on top of Victor’s, and he whispered, “come for me.”

“ _Yuurrrrrrri_ ,” Victor cried out, his whole body pulsing around Yuuri as he spilled over his hand. Yuuri fucked him through it, the feeling of Victor’s orgasm only making him press in harder, burying himself deep in the delicious heat. He pushed in hard as he came too, collapsing fully onto Victor.

Cheek against Victor’s chest, Yuuri breathed for a second, inhaling the scent of the polished wood mixed with the smell of their mingled sex.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to play this piano again without getting hard,” he mumbled.

Victor was trembling, and for a second Yuuri thought it was from fatigue, but he realized: Victor was laughing.

Yuuri turned to rest his forehead against Victor’s chest, laughing too.

After a minute, Yuuri pulled out, groaning, because it was an effort to move at all. He got rid of the condom in one of the covered pails nearby—hoping that no one would see it—and pulled his pants back up over his hips.

When he turned back, Victor was still splayed out on top of the black wood of the piano, breaths uneven, looking at Yuuri.

He looked wrecked, like someone who’d been truly well-fucked.

And then... _then,_ Victor smiled.

Yuuri smiled back, his heart leaping in his chest.

 _Oh god_ , he thought, _Phichit was right. I_ do _have it bad._

Victor put his palms down on the wood and pushed himself up gingerly, wincing, and then he was giggling, and they were both giggling. “We just had sex on top of a Steinway grand.” He slid down to the floor and stood upright, a bit wobbly on his feet.

“Bruch would be shocked.” Yuuri slid his hands around Victor’s waist, sipping from his lips a couple of times.

“Psh. The last time he got laid was before Steinways were invented.”

Yuuri gaped at him, and then they were laughing again...and Yuuri couldn’t remember a time when sex had ever been filled with this much laughter.

Victor kissed the laugh from his lips, then rested their foreheads together.

“The only downside was that we couldn’t do more positions. I wish I could have been on top of you, riding you.”

Heat pooled deep down, even though Yuuri couldn’t get hard again that quickly. “Maybe next time?” he asked hopefully.

Victor bit his lip, looking at Yuuri with that piercing gaze again. “I know we said we would go to dinner, but…want to come back to my room? There’s...room service.” His lips turned upward into a crooked, hopeful grin.

Yuuri cupped Victor’s face, rubbing his thumb across his cheek, and Victor tilted his head into the caress. In a moment, Yuuri realized: this wasn’t just sex, not for him. He didn’t know about Victor, but if the way he was looking at him now—the way he was holding him, fingertips pressing into Yuuri’s skin, like he didn’t want to let go—was any indication...maybe, just _maybe_ , Victor felt that way too.

“I’d love to,” Yuuri said softly. He leaned in to kiss Victor, sweetly, and Victor pressed into him, their bodies lining up in perfect harmony.

 

 

* * *

Later, at the hotel, they went for round two, Victor sinking down onto Yuuri’s cock while holding onto the headboard—

Later, they ordered pizza and ate it in bed naked, watching late night TV and laughing—

Much later, when Victor’s guest run was over, they made love, Victor whispering in the dark that this wasn’t the end for them, not the end—

Later, Yuuri went to St. Petersburg to perform a series with the Philharmonic as Victor’s special guest—

Later, amid a mess of bedclothes, Victor whispered those three words Yuuri had been longing to hear—

Much later, they went on tour together, playing a series of duets all around the world—

Later, Victor slipped a ring on Yuuri’s finger on a spring afternoon under the cherry blossoms, and—

Much, much later, with domestic sounds of Victor making dinner in the background, Yuuri looked down at his keyboard and smiled...because between his two hands were two tiny hands, painstakingly tapping out the notes of Chopin’s Nocturne in E-flat.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ngl… this was really fun to write. it’s possible I might write some more one shots in this series, but it won’t be for a while, as I have a couple of other projects ongoing. Stay tuned...pun intended! (yes, I love Bad Music Puns like a certain world famous violinist, sue me).


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